


The Annual Pendragon-Johnson Hannuchristmas Double Holiday Banquet and Bash XXXIV

by Ishti



Category: Aveyond
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff without Plot, Holidays, One Big Happy Family, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishti/pseuds/Ishti
Summary: Zero plot, one hundred percent character.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iztopher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iztopher/gifts).



"What's that poster from?" John pointed at the largest print over Mel's wardrobe, leaning in to get a closer look.

"C'mon, Dad; you know her," said Mel, an easy smile tugging through her words. "O-Ren Ishii?"

They stood together in the smaller bedroom of Mel's Brooklyn apartment, John wearing argyle socks (no shoes) and a winter jacket. Mel licked the last of the lunchtime fondue from her teeth. She loved it when Dad came to visit, if for no other reason than because he always took her out to some incredibly gimmicky chain restaurant she'd never justify visiting on her own. Her roommate Ulf, a biotech grad student at NYU, never wanted to do that stuff anyway. Ulf, who was originally from Nepal, avoided Max Brenner and its ilk like the plague, saying he didn't want to feel too much like a tourist. (He'd lived in New York City for seven years; Mel thought he was well beyond the point at which he could be considered a tourist.)

Mel also loved when Dad came to visit because she missed the man like hell.

She watched him squint at the poster, his face creasing around his chin. He scratched under his eyepatch absently (Mel's friends growing up thought that was gross, but it was as normal to her as Sunday morning pancakes or hollering "TOILET PAPER!" from the bathroom when the roll ran out.)

"Uh... refresh me," he said.

"O-Ren Ishii! From Kill Bill?"

"Right, right. Hey, you like Kill Bill?"

Mel waggled a hand noncommittally. "Eh."

"So why do you have a Kill Bill poster in your room?"

"I don't have a Kill Bill poster in my room. I have a Lucy Liu poster in my room."

"Ahh." John grinned at her. "No kidding. You know, the more I stare at her, the more uncannily similar she looks to Aunt Te'ijal. You ever notice that?"

"Oh my God, Dad."

"How about this one? Who's she?"

"That's Piper Perabo."

"And her?"

"Hayley Kiyoko."

"Uh... huh." John bit his lip just like he always did when he felt out of his depth in youth culture. "How about her?"

"Dad. It's Star Wars. You know Star Wars. We, like, _just_ saw that one in theaters last year."

"Oh, yeah; that's Jin Urso! Um... Felicity Jones. And over there is Kiera Knightley!" He pointed at Mel's Pirates of the Caribbean poster, the only poster in the room to feature a man as the primary focus rather than a woman. Mel was never able to find a poster with just Elizabeth Swann. But he was right; there she was, tucked in a corner behind Johnny Depp's weird face.

"You _would_ recognize that one."

"Well, of course I do. I think I bought it for you."

Mel grinned. Yeah, he had.

"Weren't you going to help out at Grandmava's today? Chef John probably needs another half set of eyes."

"Your _Uncle_ John told me I could come at 2," said John.

Mel rolled her eyes. "Are we really doing the thing where I have to call them both 'Uncle' now?"

"Grandmava said last year she likes it much better that way."

"Grandmava was _drunk!"_

"Grandmava's always a little drunk. You ever watch Archer?"

"A little." She wasn't going to admit how much she loved that stupid show.

"She's like Mallory. Except, you know, a _way_ better mom; please don't tell her I said that."

"You think she actually knows who 'Mallory' is?" Mel tittered.

"Eh, who knows." John checked his wrist for the watch he knew he forgot in Arizona. "Actually, I should head out now. Want a lift?"

Mel shook her head. "You look nice, by the way."

He also smelled nice. He'd worn the same cologne over his dress clothes since Mel was a baby, and it was one of her favorite smells in the world. John cleaned up far more often since he got his job in Sedona, and he really did look great in a collared shirt (no tie) and a blazer (although at every family function he'd inevitably lose the jacket and unbutton the shirt to some degree--John was nothing if not consistent).

He grinned. "Thanks, kid. That's not what you're wearing tonight, is it?"

Mel crossed her arms over her sweatervest. "Guess not."

"Eh, wear what you want. I just figured _Stell-laaaaaa_ might like to see you in something a little snazzier." John winked, and Mel stuck out her tongue.

"We've been best friends since we were in diapers, Dad; nothing really _changed_ just because we started dating."

"If you say so! But you know Aunt Elini is gonna give you a hard time."

"Yeah, guess so." Mel scratched her head, missing the gentle pressure of her absent headband. "I'll wear something nice. But I'm a slob! I'm gonna have to borrow a bib from Iya to keep my clothes clean."

"Iya doesn't wear bibs."

"Myst does."

"Right, yeah. I keep forgetting you have a _niece_ now. How old even am I?"

"Forty-eight. Come on, get out of my apartment." Mel ushered him through the tiny living room to the front door. "I'll see you in a couple hours."

"Love the fishtank in the downstairs lobby, by the way," said John as he slipped on his loafers by the coat rack. "Tell Ulf again he's still welcome to join us!"

"He won't."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family time

Each December, the Johnsons and the Pendragons switched off who would host the huge family holiday bash. Grandmava and "Uncle" Devin (generationally, he would be her great-uncle, and he wasn't even a blood relative anyway) both had enormous living spaces, although Devin's was a suite on the forty-eighth floor of the One57 building and Grandmava's was a mansion in the Sands Point suburbs, a stone's throw from Hempstead Bay and the iconic Lands End properties.

It was usually easier for Mel to get to the Pendragons' because she didn't have a car - it was New York City; who could keep a _car?_ \- but she was used to public transit by now, after seven years of deep-city NYC life. It was way more convoluted than Hamburg public transit, but at least she didn't need to read German to get around anymore. (Mel and John only lived in the borough of Harburg, Hamburg for a few years before returning to the States, and she barely picked up enough German to skate through her secondary school classes.)

Mel took three buses and walked a cumulative mile in the bitter wind that always signified imminent snow. This journey took two hours, and it was dark by the time she arrived. She almost wished she'd capitulated and allowed her date to give her a ride later that night. Or her dad, earlier. That would have been smart.

It was four-thirty p.m. on December 24th. Melanie Jeanette Johnson, wearing a loose tunic belted at the waist, plain black leggings and flats, an olive green peacoat, half a dozen scarves, and her signature orange bow headband, hauling an enormous tote bag full of cookies, her nose red in the nipping cold, was at the door and ready to party.

Aunt Marge answered the door. "MEL-L-L-L-L!" she yelled, because she always yelled, dragging out the end of every sentence. "Come in-n-n-n! Oh my goodness, what did you bri-i-i-ing? You look so cold; I just lit a fire in the den! Come in!"

Mel would've smiled wider had she not believed her lips would freeze and fall right off.

"Hi, Aunt Marge," she said, stepping into Grandmava's house. "I brought cookies."

Marge shut the door behind her. It slammed loudly, but Marge always slammed loudly. "You are an angel! Let me take your coat."

God, it smelled _good_ in here. The kitchen was further down the hall, but the scents permeated the whole house. There was definitely turkey, at least one turkey - Mel hoped there were a couple huge turkeys rather than a bunch of small ones; she, Ed, Emma, and Rye always competed to see who could steal the legs before anyone else got to them. Emma and Rye hadn't participated in a couple of years; having a baby changed a person, Mel supposed.

She smelled a couple types of fish, for certain. Thyme, lemon, garlic, rosemary. Roasting vegetables, white potatoes and sweet, fresh bread, warm apples, vanilla, onion and pepper, Grandmava's spicy gumbo... The scent of brisket was noticeably absent; Mel figured the Pendragons must not be there yet.

No ham, of course. Mel would have to seek out a Christmas ham on her own. The Johnsons hailed from a vaguely Protestant background, whereas the Pendragons were Jewish. Their combined holiday practices melded into a single, incomparable tradition Mel knew she could never replicate elsewhere. The only thing she missed out on was the ham.

Of course, she made up for the ham by eating more latkes, donuts, tostones, and oily garbage foods than she ought to eat all year.

Mel plopped her tote bag onto an ottoman in the foyer. "Give me a minute with these, Aunt Marge; I need to fish my Pollyanna gift out of the bag."

(She got Talia this year. She hoped the crowd wouldn't fawn too much over the personalized scrapbook she'd put together. Sentimentality wasn't really her style.)

"All right; just bring 'em into the kitchen when you're ready." Marge left, presumably to labor under Grandmava's culinary whip. Mel heard a food processor whine in the distance.

While digging through her bag, she shivered. Someone ought to light a fire in here, too. Not all thirty-ish attendees would fit in the toasty den. Mel extracted the wrapped gift with some effort, then turned to the fireplace and grabbed a couple logs.

She didn't notice her dad stroll in and kick his feet up on the second ottoman until he cleared his throat. She yelped and spun around.

"Got you." John grinned.

Mel glowered and tossed a match into the fireplace. "Seriously? We _just_ went over how old you are."

"Aw, it's Christmas Eve! _And_ Hanukkah! Let me have some fun." He swirled a bottle of craft IPA in one hand. "You want a beer?"

She couldn't help but snicker as she stood all the way up, brushing off her knees. "Maybe in a bit."

John regarded her fondly. "Look at you! That's almost a dress!"

"I put in some effort."

"Elini's gonna love it." John sighed, his expression teetering on wistful. "You remind me so much of your mother, you know."

Mel held out a hand. "Shh-hh-hh. Please. You know not to say that stuff near Uncle Jack."

"He's all the way in the living room; he didn't hear me." John did allow a sympathetic smile. "Doesn't bother _you,_ does it?"

"You ask me that every time."

"Shouldn't I?"

Mel sighed. "Did you really fly all the way out from Sedona just to badger me with emotionally-loaded questions?"

"Arizona gets lonely this time of year."

"Go talk to Grandmava, then. Or Stella; she loves that crap."

"Are the Pendragons even here yet?"

"No, but Grandmava is." Mel pushed past John to exit the room. "I love you, Dad, but... ugh, can't we just talk about sports or something?"

"Uh, no, that's what Sports John is for." John rolled his eye. "Not Pirate John. If you want him, your Uncle Sports - I mean, Uncle John - I mean, the _older_ Uncle John was in the living room with Rye and Gavin last I checked."

Mel raised an eyebrow. "Wait, Gavin's here?"

"Yeah."

"I mean... okay, but... _why?"_

"You didn't hear? He and Nic are back together."

"Oh." Mel inspected the doorframe. "Oh boy."

"Yeah." John stood and stretched, a little beer splashing from his bottle."Oh, go find Emma; I think she had something for you to do."

Mel wrinkled her nose. Emma probably wanted her to watch Boyle. She didn't mind it _that_ much, and she was certainly a better babysitting candidate than anyone else there (half of them were in the kitchen, Iya and Ean were switching off with Myst, and the rest of them were getting their drink on), but... well, investigative journalism was _hard_ and _exhausting_ and maybe it was time for Mel to get her drink on, too.

Oh well. She knew she'd have a chance later. Uncle Jack usually ran the bar, and Uthar would most assuredly break out the wine once he arrived. Mel was admittedly sick of the bottom-shelf, fifteen-dollar, five-liter Walmart cardboard box Franzia Cabernet she kept in her fridge.

A few minutes later, Mel sat on the plush couch with Sports John, Gavin, and Rye. Aunt Elini, Sports John's wife, perched on a barstool while Jack cleaned up behind the bar, preparing for company. John was on the other side of the room with Grandmava's collection of arcade games, booting up Tempest and the pinball machine.

Mel bounced her baby nephew on her lap while the three men battled for the remote. They kept flipping between channels, Sports John keen on watching the Giants game, while Rye wanted the Knicks, and Gavin was insistent that if they let him have the remote for just one more minute, he would definitely find hockey somewhere. The NHL hadn't played on Christmas Eve since 1971, but secret hockey fan Mel didn't want to speak up and risk waking Boyle the baby foghorn.

Mel mused on how thoughtful it was of Emma to name their child Boyle. Rye's mother's maiden name was Zoyle - Beth Zoyle - and Rye lived with her alone until she died. He only became Rye Tenobor once he found his father, Lars, and spent the rest of his adolescence in the Tenobor family. Mel knew Rye loved the Tenobor-Maurva-Pendragons fiercely, but it was touching that he still felt connected to the mother who raised him until she no longer could.

Rye caught her smiling hazily at him. "All right there, weirdo?"

She shook her head back into the room and yawned. "Yeah, it's nothing. But your baby's starting to smell bad."

"Oh. Great." Rye sighed and scooped Boyle from Mel's lap. "She always leaves him with me after he eats..."

"Rough life, Petruchio." Mel patted Rye's arm as he left.

The Knicks were beating the Cowboys 30-17. No, that wasn't right; the _Giants_ were playing the Cowboys. The Knicks were playing the Flyers - the _Lakers;_ it was the Lakers. Hang on, where _did_ Gavin find a hockey game?

Mel stifled a massive yawn. "Hey, Gav. When's Nic getting here?"

"Uh, don't you mean _Uncle_ Nic?" Gavin teased.

"Nic the Dick."

Sports John cracked up while her dad feigned a scandalized gasp. "Language, Melanie!"

Mel rolled her eyes. "I'm twenty three."

"Oh, fine. But I'm telling him you called him that."

"That's fine. He calls me Mel from Hell."

"Of course he does!" laughed Sports John. She heard Jack snickering from the bar. She tried to pull a face at him, but she yawned midway through.

"Sleepy much?" asked Gavin.

"Ugh... maybe." Suddenly, a nap sounded much nicer than a drink. "I might go crash in Johnny's room."

John choked. "Uh, I'm sorry - you mean _your dad's_ room?"

"Grandmava calls it 'Johnny's room'! That's just what we say every time I sleep over. Then there's Jonathan's room, and J. J.'s room, and Marge's room."

"Well..." John sputtered. "That... that _is_ what she calls us, I guess."

"Wait, which one of you is 'J. J.'?" Gavin chortled.

"That's me," said Sports John.

"So which do you like better, 'J. J.' or 'Sports John'?"

"I'm gonna go take that nap." Mel rose from the couch and rubbed her eyes; they were starting to lose focus a bit. _This is what I get for working the morning before Christmas._

Mel was normally a cat-napper, but she hoped she could sleep until the Pendragons started showing up. They weren't all coming together, of course, but she knew that Stella had the dreaded Christmas Eve shift at the flower shop, so she would be pretty late, and... well, Mel was a little anxious to see Stella. The good kind of anxious; the excited-anxious. The kind where the thing she wanted wouldn't be there for a while, so she just wanted to sleep until it was there.

Curled up under a thick, paisley comforter on John's old queen bed, Mel could barely hear the muffled hooting and laughter downstairs. It was so warm in Grandmava's house in the winter. The old lady preferred it that way; she always said warmth was better for her joints, although everyone knew her spry joints were just fine one way or the other.

Stella would be there _soon._ Oh, Stella. Mel and Stella had been best friends since childhood, just like their parents. Well, John and Rhen had been best friends their whole lives; John didn't much care for Stella's father, Dameon, or Dameon's boyfriend, Lars. Stella's immediate family was three times the size of Mel's - and "Aunt" Rhen made it clear from the day of Mel's birth that the Pendragons were Mel's family, too. Mel and Stella grew up together, made sandcastles at Jones Beach together, memorized the streets of Little Tokyo together, hand-wrote letters to one another when Mel was in Europe (she still had all of the letters Stella sent her, each written on Sanrio stationery in glittery gel pens of different colors).

They had even kissed a bit when they were young - once when they were five, because they were kids; once when they were eleven, because they didn't know when they'd see one another again; once when they were fourteen, because Mel came back. Again when they were fifteen, because they were teenagers. And... maybe a few more times after that.

Mel had worried it was weird to fall in love with this girl she'd been so close with since birth, but then Emma and Rye got together and had a baby, and everyone was so happy that the two families were now united. So, she asked Stella out. Well, she asked Stella to be her girlfriend - she pondered it for a very long time, but she couldn't think of a single date activity that they hadn't already done together, so ten months ago she asked Stella to join her for sushi and also to be her girlfriend.

Oh, she was _so_ cute when she said yes.

Stella would be there at six, which was fine; their date said she'd arrive at six-thirty. This girl... Mel found her unbearably attractive in every conceivable way, but there was no way Mel would've asked her out had Stella not intervened. Mel still couldn't believe they were dating her now. They had, in fact, been dating for two entire months.

Mel's mind idly recounted the guests as she dozed off. Devin and Talia would get there first, and Talia would immediately flush everyone but Grandmava out of the kitchen... No one else was allowed to cook while Talia was around. If Gavin was already there, Nic would arrive soon. Rhen, Dameon, and Lars had a bit of a drive, and traffic looked bad on the bus earlier. Their brother Uthar, who attended a maximum of two family functions on a good year, would probably be fashionably late... Mel blurrily wondered whether Edward would come with his father or try to arrive courteously early instead, and then, she was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mel and I both fall asleep at parties. It's totally normal.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party don't start til I walk in

Mel awoke to the sound of Uthar and Sports John's combined belly laughter (a powerful force indeed). The digital clock said it was five minutes til six. Mel shot out of bed, flicked on the lights, and hastily adjusted herself in the vanity mirror.

Footsteps, footsteps, Elini chattering, Myst whining, the toilet flushing, Ean speaking, Nic groaning, the NFL theme playing on the TV, Grandmava's pinball machine trilling and chiming, a glass tinkling - Stella laughing - _she's here!_

Smoothing her hair one last time, Mel galloped from the room and down the stairs.

"Stella!" she called through the din.

"Mel?"

She was in the den, sitting at the bar with Ed and Rye. Mel thought she looked _hot_ in her long-sleeved, knee-length, ruby red dress. It was very fashionable, with sheer sleeves and a boat neck; Stella usually trended cute and girly, and Mel wondered whether their date picked it out for her. Jack took Stella's empty shot glass as she abandoned it on the bar and trotted away to embrace Mel.

"Mel! I was wondering where you were!" Stella nuzzled Mel, who then pecked her on the lips.

"Sorry, babe; I was totally zonked upstairs."

"PDA, kids," said Lars from the couch.

"Hi, Lars," said Mel, rolling her eyes. She and Stella snickered together, then kissed again.

"Oh, let them be," laughed Te'ijal as she walked into the room.

Mel raised an eyebrow. "Aunt Te'ijal! I didn't know you'd be here."

"She comes every year," said Elini, who was sitting on Sports John's lap in an exemplary performance of PDA. "Why wouldn't she be here?"

Te'ijal held out her arms to Mel. "Come here, rabbit; it feels like I haven't seen you in centuries!"

Mel debated the merits of hugging the weird, cold-skinned lady who called herself "Aunt" while also struggling to remember exactly whose sister she was. In the end, the hug was fine.

"How's Galahad?" asked Mel when it was finally over. She shivered a little.

"Oh, swell!" cooed Te'ijal. "I believe he is speaking with Nicolas in the next room."

Mel took Stella's hand. "Very much looking forward to your blood sausage at dinner. I'm going to go say hi to Galahad, if that's all right!"

"Quite! Oh, it's _extra_ juicy this year!"

Mel and Stella, doing their best to conceal uncharitable giggles, bolted to the dining room to find Galahad. They found him and Nicolas sitting on two chairs pulled out from the table, apparently engaged in a serious conversation.

"...and you should look into something called 'pre-nuptials'."

"Mel!" Nicolas gave her a classic half-smile as she approached. "Good to see you."

Galahad turned in his seat to eye her. "Ah, Melanie. I was told that you were asleep. I did my best to discourage excessive noise in the common area. Hello, Stella."

"Thanks, Uncle Gal." He hated that name, but Mel also hated that he called her "Melanie", so they were even. "Enjoying the party so far?"

He stabbed a chunk of semi-soft cheese and nursed it while she spoke. "Mm. Very much. The cheese platter is incredible this year. Where did your grandmother find this Port Salut?"

"I dunno, probably Murray's. Uh... it's really good with the prosciutto."

"I have been a vegetarian since taking my marital vows."

Mel shot Nicolas a pleading glance while Galahad was occupied with his hors d'oeuvre. "Right, I forgot."

Nic simpered and gestured for Galahad's attention. "Oh, I'm... so sorry, Mel, but Galahad and I were having a rather sensitive discussion before you arrived; can I steal him back from you, please?"

"By all means," said Mel as Stella linked their arms and began gently tugging her away. Nic always came through when she needed him most; she was silently grateful for the Pendragon family diva. "We were just going to, ah... the kitchen, so. Ta for now!"

Stella whisked Mel down the main hall to an anteroom not currently inundated with guests. They collapsed into exhilarated laughter in their old spot under the curved stairs, holding one another's hands and pressing in, careless as they ever were as kids. Mel bit her lip and bumped her nose into Stella's.

"So you're gonna make out with me now, right?" whispered Stella with a narrow-eyed smile.

"How long do you think we can go before someone finds us?" Mel whispered back. They kissed.

The answer, it turned out, was four minutes and twelve seconds, and the person who found them was Ed. "Um--Stella?" he stammered, and both girls started.

"Edward!" snapped Mel, flushed with surprise.

"Sorry, sorry!" The boy was red as a beet. "It's just that Aunt Rhen was looking for you. Uh, I mean, you, Stella."

Stella grimaced. "What does she want now?"

"She wants to get the menorah lit before it gets much later. Sundown was, like, two hours ago."

"Can it wait just a little more? Our date is coming really soon - "

"She's _your_ mom; you go ask her." Edward shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. The boy would look very nice that night if his face wasn't that hideous, blotchy shade of red, Mel decided.

"You look nice, Edward," said Mel, and he grew even redder.

"Whatever. Just go find her soon, one way or another; she's getting impatient." Edward hurried away.

"Mom's impatient, huh? She must've gotten into Uncle Uthar's wine," sighed Stella, rolling her eyes.

Mel smirked. "Oh, for sure. But... did you see Ed's _face?"_

They were consumed with giggles. "Poor kid _still_ has a crush on you, I guess!" snickered Stella.

"He needs to get over it! I already picked my Pendragon."

Stella blushed. "Oh... gosh. All right, I'm gonna find Mom." She stood and whacked her head on a low stair.

"Ooh, Stella, are you okay?" Mel crouched, careful not to stand all the way up until they were clear of the staircase. She rubbed a hand over Stella's head.

"It was nothing. But you're so sweet." Stella pecked Mel on the cheek and ran off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Real fine lady, who's that lady?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about my formatting yo I didn't do a style edit

Rhen told Stella they were lighting the candles whether her date was there or not, because dinner was almost ready and there was nothing _she_ could do about that, now, was there. "She'll just have to join us for candle-lighting next year" was what Rhen said. When Stella told Mel, Mel asked if she blushed, and Stella did her best to pretend she hadn't, but God bless her, the girl couldn't lie.

Devin and Rhen led the blessings together. It wasn't the first night of Hanukkah, but because it was the night when the whole two-family clan came together to celebrate, they said both the candle-lighting blessing and the Shehecheyanu. All of the goyim, even Ean, who'd been part of the family only a few years, knew every word to each blessing. Not one person in the room was in tune with anyone else. _As it should be._

It was probably a good thing their prim little Catholic-school girlfriend wasn't there yet. Mel bet she would've been uncomfortable as the only person in the room without a clue what was going on - and when the lady got uncomfortable, she got _snippy._ Even so, Mel couldn't help but glance at the door every fifteen seconds, her heart racing. Usually, she relied on Stella to express this affection for her, but something about Christmas made Mel stop struggling against the tide and instead let her feelings carry her through the night.

The crowd broke up as Talia shouted that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes. That was good; Mel's stomach was grumbling, not intermittently, but instead in one long and steady growl. She realized she hadn't yet had a drop to drink, and she knew Uthar always hid a bottle of Manischewitz ("the sweet shit") in with the decent wine, and... well, grape juice sounded pretty good right then. Grape juice that could get her buzzed sounded even better. She had just turned toward the den when the doorbell rang.

_Oh my god, she's really here._

For some reason, Mel hadn't fully believed that her date was coming to the party. She should have known better; Stella could probably convince the greediest banker in New York to turn all his vacation houses into homeless shelters, so wheedling their girlfriend into attending their party was no difficult task.

It took Mel a second to realize no one else was making to answer the door. Feeling a little hot, she crossed the room, wiped the sweat from her palms, and turned the handle, bracing herself for the cold wind ushering Lydia Rupert and her mink coat into Grandmava's house.

"Mel! Shut the door quickly; it's a nightmare outside!"

Mel pulled a thin smile as she closed the door. "As you command, your highness. May I take your coat?"

Lydia, ever in tune with Mel's sarcasm, narrowed her eyes. "Yes, actually." She shed the hairy rug form her shoulders and passed it off to Mel.

"Wonderful."

"Thank you very much." Lydia tugged a kidskin glove from one hand. "Do you have a place I could put my gloves?"

"Most people just use their pockets." Mel hung the coat on the last free hook by the door and turned to get a good look at her date.

Lydia wore a sleek black cocktail dress with an asymmetrical square neckline and a slit over her leg. Her innumerable articles of jewelry, as well as her glittering pumps, were silver, and her nails were painted ombre from silver to the same green as her hair. Under the dress, Mel noticed dark pantyhose accentuated with silver; Lydia really did think of everything. Mel knew she wore a push-up bra underneath the dress--she wasn't _that_ big. Lydia had a slender figure with excellent hips, and Mel had to admit she knew exactly how to dress that figure.

"You look nice," said Mel as she took the gloves and tucked them into the pocket of her own hanging coat.

"Huh." Lydia sniffed as she kissed Mel's cheeks. "Digging right in, then."

Mel rolled her eyes. "I was serious, but okay."

Lydia's eyebrows rose. "Oh. Well... thanks." She did a little twirl for Mel, although it seemed pointless, as her skirt barely moved at all. "Hot off the runway. It's an Oscar de la Renta."

"So you have to return it tomorrow?"

"Very cute, Johnson." (Three months ago, that would've merited only a glower.)

"Lydia!" cried Stella, trotting across the room and flinging her arms around her date. "Oh my _gosh,_ you look so pretty! Is that the Oscar de la Renta?"

Lydia couldn't stifle her grin as she squeezed Stella back and kissed her cheeks. "It is! I just got my hands on it Wednesday."

"Did the Elie Saab arrive yet?" Stella seemed genuinely enthusiastic.

"No, not yet. Did you show that collection to Mel like I said?"

"I totally forgot! Yeah, Mel, you would actually really like it!"

"If you say so." Mel glanced away. "Y'know, you could've shown me yourself, Lyds."

"There are so many people here!" gasped Lydia, ignoring Mel's comment. "When you guys said your _whole_ families got together, I didn't realize you meant, like, two dozen people!"

"Isn't it exciting?" twittered Stella.

"It is! I am so ready to go around and start meeting people! I studied the family tree you drew me."

"Okay, cool." Mel tried not to smile too hard; she wasn't sure whether she was more amused that Stella drew out their whole family tree, or that Lydia actually _read_ it. God, her girlfriends were adorable.

She and Stella showed Lydia down the hall into Grandmava's foyer. From across the room, Mel singled out her dad and gave him the nod they used to summon one another. "Aunt Rhen and tío Dameon are probably in the kitchen right now, but Dad's here, so you're gonna meet him first."

Pirate John sauntered over, an appetizer plate in one hand and a fork in the other, chewing the remnants of a glob of baked brie. Mel's stomach growled; that smelled delicious.

"So... Dad, Stella and I want you to meet our girlfriend, Lydia. Lydia, this tall, handsome drink of diet Pepsi is my dad."

"John," interjected Stella, her voice and her face both glowing with delight. It was almost infuriating how beautiful she was sometimes. "But our families usually call him 'Pirate John' 'cause he's the John who likes pirates."

John swallowed, grabbed his fork with his plate hand, and offered Lydia the free hand to shake. "How do you do, Lydia."

Lydia rubbed her manicured fingers together before delicately accepting his handshake. She granted him a polite smile. "Very well, thank you, Mister Johnson. Ah--Mister... John... Johnson, is it?"

John laughed. "'Mister' John Johnson was my father! But, yes, I know what you're getting at. It's a family tradition to name all the Johnson boys 'John'. Couldn't tell you why; best I know, it's been going on for centuries."

"Ah! Well. Lydia Rupert. Pleasure. The... patch on your eye is quite stylish, Mister... Pirate... John."

"She catches on quick," joked Mel. Stella giggled (Stella giggled a lot when she was excited, but no one was complaining).

Chuckling, John led Lydia, Mel, and Stella to the den. "Pleasure to meet you, too, Lydia. So, you're at Parsons?"

"Yes! I'm working towards a master's in fashion design."

"That's incredible! Did you study fashion in undergrad?"

"Actually, I have a bachelor's in business and political economy from NYU."

John settled onto a stool by the bar in the bustling den. He gestured for his daughter and her girlfriends to sit with him. "Following in the ol' Rupert footsteps, eh?"

"Well... I was." Lydia cracked a tiny, vulnerable smile for the briefest of seconds. "I'm doing my own thing now."

She put her hand on Mel's lap. Stella reached across and squeezed it, and Mel rested her hand atop theirs.

"That's commendable." John swiveled to face the bar. "So, can I buy you a drink?"

Stella giggled again. "It'll be a strawberry cosmo."

"Yeah, actually, I'd like a strawb - hey."

Lydia swatted playfully at Stella across Mel's lap. Stella swatted back. Mel rolled her eyes.

"Jackie!" called John. "Gimme an old-fashioned, two Long Islands, and a strawberry cosmo."

Working a shaker in one hand, Jack saluted leisurely with the other. "On it, cap'n."

**"DINNER!"**

Lydia jumped. The rowdy crowd in front of the TV grew a little quieter at the sound of the woman's booming voice. Jack didn't even blink as he slid two Long Island iced teas across the counter.

**"IS!"**

Lars and Dameon were already marching for the dining room. Lydia raised an incredulous eyebrow. That was okay; she was new.

**"SERVED!"**

A roar of applause and cheering shook the house. Everyone - except Lydia - joined the ovation; even Galahad tossed out a "huzzah" as he joined the throng moving for the tables. Mel jumped from her seat to holler, clapping her hands above her head, and Stella did a little dance while she cheered. Lydia was squinting, her mouth hanging slightly open. It usually took newbies a little while to process their first Pendragon-Johnson dinner.

Mel grabbed her hand. "Stop catching flies and let's go snag you some _real_ food!"

The banquet was, as always, phenomenal. Edward snagged two drumsticks (hidden in Ziploc bags in his inside jacket pockets) to her one (stashed in a layer of paper towels secured by her bra), winning the evening (although Mel got points for creativity). Te'ijal's blood sausage was actually pretty good, but Mel couldn't think about it too hard while eating or she would gag. After wolfing down about a dozen of Dameon's tostones, Mel found him at his chair and demanded he set aside a full Tupperware container for her to take home; just like every year, he already had. Galahad brought a meatless lasagna _(why?)_ and everyone graciously pretended to like it. Rhen animatedly explained to Lydia how the Pendragon name was passed down through the women of the family. Uthar, incredibly intoxicated, had to be repeatedly reminded that it was not Passover each time he tried to start a verse of Chad Gadya.

Every year, Grandmava came around the table to greet all of the grandkids, including the ones who did not actually belong to her, slipped each of them a fresh twenty-dollar bill, winked, and told them not to tell anyone else. It was always a huge delight and a small embarrassment, but it was an embarrassment shared equally among all seven grandkids, so no one really had anything to be embarrassed about.

Grandmava looked exactly the same as Mel remembered, even up close. She continued to boldly display the cataract in her right eye, even after John repeatedly offered her a selection of designer eyepatches from his personal collection. White and grey highlights enhanced her natural violet hair, swept into a careless bun, with a silvery sheen. She even wore the same navy blue outfit as she had every Christmas for at least two dozen years. Grandmava knelt down beside Mel, gave her a big, leathery kiss on the cheek, and crowed right in her ear, "Mel's bells! I can _not_ tell you how wonderful it is to see you, love." She discreetly folded a bank note into Mel's hand and whispered with a wink, "A little extra present for the holidays. Don't tell the other kids, or they'll get jealous."

"You look great! It's good to see you, too." Mel lowered her voice. "Grandmava, Iya and Emma both have their own kids now. Don't you think we might be getting a little too old for this?"

"Oh, I know you are, dear. That's why I upped the ante a little." Grandmava nudged Mel in the ribs before ruffling her hair and standing back up. "Happy holidays, sweetheart."

Mel looked at the bill in her hand. It was a fifty.

Grandmava put a hand on Lydia's shoulder to get her attention. "You must be Lydia! Welcome to the family, hon." She grabbed Lydia's limp, surprised hand and clasped it with both of hers in an excessively firm and entirely unsubtle handshake. By the time Lydia could figure out how to react, Grandmava was gone.

Mel had to give it to Grandmava - the woman was always prepared.

Dinner progressed, as did drinks. Several toasts were given over the course of the night, to Grandmava, to Marge and the Johns, to Devin and the sorely missed Alicia (and to Talia, who kept Devin functioning from the moment Alicia died), to Iya and Emma's young families, to everyone who couldn't make it that night (an annual joke, because everyone always made it every year), to "our good boys prosecuting those clowns in DC" (Chef John), to "our good boyds prossaputing those jokers in Marvel" (Sports John), to alcohol (Pirate John), and to everyone shutting up so they could actually eat (Marge). Mel and Edward teamed up for the annual "look who's holding hands under the table" round-up. Ean and Iya made the list for the sixth year in a row.

The Pollyanna and general gift exchange always took about an hour because Grandmava insisted everyone watch as each gift was opened, so they gathered in the foyer after dinner and spent the time digesting before dessert. Talia misted up when she opened Mel's scrapbook, which was exactly what Mel wanted. Grandmava herself drew Mel this year, and Mel was once again reminded that no one gave better gifts than Grandmava as she pulled a certificate of authenticity from a manila envelope before tearing the paper off an original Rambo: First Blood Part II survival knife in a sleek leather kit. The compass and flashlight and stuff were awesome, but Mel couldn't take her hands off the knife. It was unsigned and unmarked, just the way she liked it. She was starstruck. _Sylvester Stallone touched this knife._

Ean, who grew up about fifteen minutes away from Napa Valley, gave Lydia three bottles of wine, a white, a red, and a rosé; he explained his selections in detail while the crowd oohed and aahed. Lydia bought Uthar a stunning pair of mother-of-pearl cuff links and a matching tie. Stella and Te'ijal drew one another; Te'ijal walked away with a gorgeous, leather-bound compendium of Grimm's Fairy Tales, Stella with a vintage handbag decorated with pressed flowers. Even Rye was satisfied with his gift from Galahad, who gave him two mezzanine tickets to see Chicago in January, plus a pledge to babysit Boyle that night.

Nicolas proposed to Gavin over dessert. That was a genuine shock to everyone, except for Galahad, who - to his credit - made a legitimate effort not to look grim through the whole thing. Talia and Devin both sobbed. Gavin said yes.

Recently, the Pendragon-Johnsons abstained from mistletoe to prevent uncomfortable situations (such as the Great Edward-Mel Awkward Standoff of 2010, which was mostly just uncomfortable for Edward and the dozen or so people who tried to move through the doorway while they stood in it a foot apart for half an hour.) The ban was a relief for some people (Edward, but also Nicolas, who was the only thirty-to-fifty-something in the whole family who consistently declined an annual French from Elini). Mel didn't really care about the mistletoe one way or another.

When the crowd began to migrate from the foyer back to the den, Stella pulled Mel into the bathroom, locked the door, whipped a sprig of mistletoe from her dress pocket, dangled it over Mel's head, and kissed her so hard that she nearly fell backward.

When Stella pulled away (because there was no way Mel was pulling away from that first), Mel's smile was huge. "That is, like, the least Jewish thing I have ever seen you do, Stels."

Stella stuffed the mistletoe back into her pocket. "I stole it from Elini; can you believe that?"

Mel laughed in shock. "You stole this!"

"Mmm-hmm." Stella bit her lip and grinned. "I'm a li-i-ittle bit drunk."

She did smell a lot like maraschino cherries and vodka, and it wasn't like Mel was especially sober, either. They kissed again.

"Oh my god, you should have seen Lydia's face when I got her! She was, like, the same color as my dress." Stella giggled.

"Ooh, you should let me borrow that."

"Gotta steal it back from me!" Stella shoved her hands into her pockets, and Mel kissed her again. They played a little game of keep-away, kissing and laughing, but Stella, who was taller than Mel, ended the game by holding the mistletoe too high for Mel to reach.

"No fair!"

"You know, Lydia probably doesn't need a bunch of leaves to justify making out with you in the bathroom."

"You have a point. C'mon, I want another drink."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :')

She woke up in her dad's old bed to cold sunlight washing the room. Stella was curled up peacefully beside her, lips parted slightly in her sleep. Mel lifted her head a couple inches; yep, there was Lydia behind Stella, and... wow, she wasn't wearing much anymore. Mel blushed. It's not like she'd never seen Lydia naked before (now there was a laughable thought), but in her _dad's bed?_ That was a little weird. It's not like she or Stella warned Lydia to bring pajamas, though.

Mel turned her head to face the window, and jumped a little when she saw the shoe resting on the pillow beside her head. Her flat. That was... puzzling.

She sat up slowly - her head hurt a bit, but in a refreshing sort of way - and picked up the shoe. It looked to be full of coins. An exquisite model rocking horse barely as long as her thumb rested on top. The tiny horse was suspended on a thin dowel attached to a wooden base, and it swung gently when she picked it up. She marveled at it for a minute, tilting it back and forth between her fingers. She'd seen polished woodwork like this only once, perhaps a decade ago, back in Germany.

After examining the toy thoroughly, she swung her legs to sit on the edge of the bed and placed the horse on her nightstand. The shoe was shallow, but it had been packed full of fake gold doubloons. She plucked a piece of the kitschy pirate treasure from the shoe and snapped it in half to reveal a chocolate coin inside the foil wrapping. She grinned. Someone knew she loved gelt - perhaps Stella?

Mel dumped the coins onto the bed. There was a little clementine wedged into the toe of the flat. She fished it out. Underneath the clementine was a slip of paper, which came loose when the shoe was empty. Curious, Mel put the shoe back on the bed and unfolded the paper.

It was a note.

_"Mel;_

_It's been seven years since our last Saint Nicholas Day together. I really wanted to make it out here by the 6th this year; I saved all my vacation days and fought upper management about it. You already know about that._

_I know Sedona isn't your home. Hell, I'm not even sure it's mine. But maybe, if you're free (I know journo isn't as flexible irl as it is in college) and if you want to, I could fly you out for a little while next December. We could see the next Star Wars right when it comes out so you don't get spoiled on Facebook before my NYC visit. Plus, it's nice and warm._

_You hold onto stuff as much as I do. I want you to know I haven't forgotten a single second of the last twenty-three years of your life. I want to be there for every second of the next twenty-three, and the next after that._

_Love you, kid."_

Mel's nose stung a little. She put all of the gifts back into her shoe and set it on the nightstand. Rubbing her eyes fiercely, she got up and walked to the window facing the backyard. The snow was still falling ever so slowly, sparkling in the morning light.

Someone moaned a little behind her. Mel heard the rustling of sheets as Lydia sat up in bed.

"Um... where am I?"

Her voice didn't sound that insistent, and Mel was reminded that Lydia could be docile every once in a while. "We're still at Grandmavas," she murmured, turning around and leaning on the windowsill behind her. "Someone must have carried us upstairs last night."

"Carried us...?"

"Yeah. Someone falls asleep on the big couch every year. Guess it was us this time."

"I didn't have that much to drink, I... don't think." Lydia rubbed her forehead.

"Yeah, none of us did. It just happens sometimes. It's the hypnosis of tryptophan combined with the bewitchery of that couch."

"I guess... I think I remember waking up in the middle of the night. Did I take my dress off?" Lydia glanced down at her naked underwear and bloomed red. "Wow, I totally did."

"We kinda forgot to tell you to bring something to sleep in," Mel explained sheepishly. "Stella keeps some pajamas at Grandmava's place, and my ultra-chic, fashion-forward tunic doubles as a nightgown." She struck a cheesy pose and smirked, awaiting Lydia's horrified reaction.

Instead, she got a weak smile. "That's pretty neat. Um... I'm cold."

"Oh." Mel dropped her pose and marched to the wardrobe. "You can wear something of Stella's. Let me just... aha, this one. Perfect."

She held out an unbearably ugly fleece button-down and matching pants, the most hideous of the remnants of Stella's tacky fairy kei phase. It was covered in silly pictures of sleepy animals, and the colors reminded Mel of a banana split with cotton candy ice cream and all the fixings. Exactly what she was looking for. She whipped around dramatically to waggle the pajama set at Lydia.

The soft giggle-snort she got from Lydia in response wasn't what Mel anticipated at all, but... God, was it cute. She covered her irrepressible smile with one hand. Maybe Stella was right; maybe she wouldn't really miss the constant antagonism.

"Man, I bet there's a story behind those pajamas," said Lydia, still grinning. There was, actually, but Mel wanted Stella to tell it later, when they were all awake together. She tossed the clothes to Lydia.

"Bet you five bucks you're not the only one who unexpectedly stayed the night. The snow really piled up last night, and it looks like it's not done just yet."

"Hmm." Lydia frowned. "I should call my dad and let him know where I am. They're probably worried."

Mel was struck by a pang of guilt. She winced. Lydia noticed.

"Oh, don't worry about it; they know I'm an adult. They probably just want to know what to do about our Christmas morning brunch and all that."

"Crap." Mel winced again. "You have, like, traditions and stuff to do."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mel; I am, in fact, a whole entire person. Where's my phone?"

"'M sleeping on it," slurred Stella.

"Oh, honey." Lydia laughed the gentle laugh she reserved for Stella. "Good morning."

"Mel-l-l-l," Stella groaned, hoisting the comforter further up her shoulders. "Get back in bed. 'S cold on your side now."

"Or," said Mel, walking up to lean her hands against the bed, "you could get up, and we could help with breakfast."

"You do it."

Lydia's cell phone slid out from under the covers and stopped in the warm spot from which Lydia had just risen. Mel rolled her eyes. Lydia finished buttoning up Stella's awful pajamas before she took the phone.

"Remember when Stella was a morning person?"

"No, I don't think I knew you guys then."

"That... that was the joke."

"Ah."

Stella rolled over onto her back as Lydia requisitioned a pair of slippers and went to call her dad in the hallway. "I think I smell bacon," mumbled Stella.

"Chef John must be up," guessed Mel.

"I hope Mom makes matzah brei this year."

Mel tutted. "Did Uthar convince you it's Passover today?"

"She makes matzah brei sometimes! Every spring she orders, like, a pallet of matzah, and then we don't eat it, and there's exactly one thing you can do with stale matzah." Stella sat up in bed. She always sounded more awake when she was talking about food.

"If you're wearing pants under there, we could go find out."

"Good idea. We're opening stockings this morning, right?"

"Yeah, Grandmava is always uncannily accurate when she guesses who she'll have with her in the morning. Don't tell Lydia yet, but I think there's a stocking for her, too."

Stella grinned. "I love that woman."

Mel smiled back. "I love our family."

They both stretched. Stella got up, and they went to join Lydia in the hallway. Mel couldn't wipe the smile from her face for the rest of the morning. She really couldn't imagine a better family than the Pendragon-Johnson clan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iz, I hope you loved it <33 Just like John (sorta), I wish I'd figured out what to make you before Dec 6! I wish you a happy season and a fantastic new year!


End file.
